


does any actual learning go on in this facility

by astralscrivener



Series: modern au: squad up universe [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Boys In Love, Established Keith/Lance (Voltron), Fluff, Happy, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, aka school days ft. human disasters keith kogane and lance mcclain, also ft drama club and after-school activities, their ship name has caught on, they're that couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-03-25 06:24:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 8,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13828377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astralscrivener/pseuds/astralscrivener
Summary: “You know the security cameras are probably catching all of this right now, right?”A series of snippets of a typical school day with Keith and Lance.





	1. the security cameras probably caught that

**Author's Note:**

> these are all gonna be set during my chatfic (some not necessarily during a specific chapter) but the chatfic isn't necessary to read to understand these
> 
> lmfao now some of you are probably sitting there like "don't you already write oneshots outside of [squad up](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12199533/chapters/27702090)?"
> 
> yeah, i do, but these are all gonna be under 1000 words. sometimes i just really crave a little scene that i need to write. here they are. these are all gonna be klance-centered but some may feature other characters
> 
> anyway have fun, if u haven't read squad up yet i recommend it but also i'm biased

                Lance walks leisurely out of the attendance office, nonchalantly swinging his hall pass in one hand, while he jams the other into his pocket. He’s halfway down one of the side corridors of the school, near the main intersection of halls where a security guard _should_ be standing (but, as is common, isn’t), when another student emerges from guidance and starts up the hall, back to Lance.

                Lance would recognize that messy mop of hair anywhere.

                He’s quick on his feet, running _on his toes_ through the intersection, trying not to look suspicious to any administrator that might be lurking nearby, and then breaks into a normal run once he’s cleared the area. The figure, ever-observant, ever-vigilant, spins before Lance reaches him, fists raised on instinct.

                Lance, somehow, is quicker.

                “Hey babe,” Lance greets, all smiles as he throws his arms around Keith, not the least bit put-off that Keith was two seconds away from decking him.

                “Hey Lance.”

                Keith relaxes, and Lance kisses him softly, and then adjusts so that he and Keith are facing the same way. One of his arms never leaves Keith’s shoulders.

                “And just why were you in guidance, mister?” Lance asks as they start off to Keith’s class—Forensics, with Ulaz—in the opposite direction from Lance’s Spanish class.

                Keith shrugs. “Forgot to drop off some AP exam stuff this morning. Asked Ulaz if I could go during his class. He said yes. Here I am.”

                Keith’s arm finds Lance’s waist. Even so, Keith sneaks a glance over his shoulder, eyebrows knitting in confusion.

                “Why are _you_ out of class? And isn’t your class the other way?”

                Lance’s smile turns mischievous. “I was in the attendance office dropping off the attendance list for our sub. I’ve got all the time in the world. Now hush and let me walk you to class.”

                Keith can’t argue with Lance—not when he’s grinning at Keith like that, not when his eyes are sparkling, not when they pass a window and the sun illuminates him and, for a brief moment, gives him a halo.

                “You know the security cameras are probably catching all of this right now, right?” Keith asks at some point, when they’re nearing the Forensics room.

                Lance’s expression wavers, the smile going crooked, his eyes zoning out. “Well. Then they saw the run I did through the intersection.”

                Keith snickers. “Were you on your toes again?”

                “No—”

                “Twinkle Toes,” Keith interrupts, smiling lopsidedly.

                Lance sighs overdramatically and releases Keith, spins on his heel, and walks in the opposite direction, both middle fingers raised.

                “Later, Starboy!” Keith calls.

                Lance spins around again, once, to wink. “See you at lunch, Mulletman.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for those of you waiting on a squad up update...stay tuned
> 
> see ya later


	2. start taking better care of yourself, dammit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caffeine is not a sufficient replacement for neither sleep nor food, unless you want to be the human equivalent of a terrified chihuahua.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> set during [chapter 97](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12199533/chapters/31200192) of squad up

                “You need to start taking better care of yourself,” Keith says with a shake of his head.

                He and Lance stand, tucked away underneath one of the school stairwells. Students flow like angry rivers in both directions, pushing and shoving, obnoxiously laughing, screaming. Very few pay them mind—most of the underclassmen don’t know them, and those who do don’t say anything of it. Most of the upperclassmen _do_ know them, and know by now that finding the two of them sharing an intimate moment between classes is commonplace.

                “I was hungry and it was all I had,” Lance replies with feigned indignation.

                His hands tremble just the slightest, and when Keith grips his arm, he knows instantly that Lance is shaking all over, jittery with caffeine, the only food or drink he’s put into his system all morning.

                “You’re ridiculous,” Keith says, and hands off a granola bar that Lance stows in his back pocket.

                “You need to eat that.”

                “I will,” Lance promises. “I’ll do it next period.”

                “Good. Now please stop running off of caffeine only,” Keith pleads.

                Lance shoots him a look with narrowed eyes, a look betrayed by the smile on his face.

                “Alright, mullet, _you’re_ one to ta—”

                Keith shuts him up by pressing their mouths together softly. Lance moves with Keith, not the least bit taken aback. It’s nice, calming after spending the first few classes of the day feeling like a chihuahua. He’s just putting a hand on Keith’s face when a shrill voice cuts in from above them.

                “KOGANE! MCCLAIN! THIS IS A PUBLIC SETTING! GET TO CLASS!”

                The two of them fly apart, and their heads snap up to where Ladnok, one of the Health teachers, leans over the railing.

                “Ah, come on, Ladnok!” Lance calls up toward the teacher famous for shaming intimate couples in the hallways.

                “To class, McClain!”

                Lance rolls his eyes as Ladnok continues on her way up the stairs, smiling conspiratorially, and gives Keith one more kiss on the cheek.

                “See you at lunch, Mulletman,” Lance says.

                “See you then. Eat the granola bar, or so help me, I’ll come to Ryner’s class and shove it down your throat,” Keith says, and keeps his voice cheery the whole time.

                He and Lance squeeze hands, once, and then part ways—Keith headed to English, and Lance to Calculus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love Them


	3. stop playing club penguin, you have a project to do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somehow, Club Penguin is not blocked on the school wifi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in my head this takes place in chapter 105 of squad up but it nothing in that chapter has relevance to this snippet so i'm not even gonna link the chapter

                Lance cuts a quick glance over his shoulder; once it’s clear that their Health teacher isn’t in the room, he pulls up a new tab on his browser, clicking away from his research on the mental health benefits of video games. Next to him, Keith raises his eyebrows.

                “Club Penguin? Didn’t that get shut down?”

                Lance smirks, typing away on the login screen.

                “A bunch of teenagers got it back up. They saved the coding, or something. It’s not just _Club Penguin,_ dear boy of mine. It’s Club Penguin _Rewritten._ ”

                Keith rolls his eyes and gets back to his own project on sleep deprivation, jotting down notes in a separate document that he needs to shove in Lance’s face later.

                “Psst.”

                Keith diligently attempts to ignore Lance hissing at his left, because this is a project he refuses to leave to the last minute like every other one he’s had this month. It becomes increasingly more difficult when Lance takes to poking him, and then draping himself all over Keith.

                “ _Keeeeeeiiiiiiith_ ,” Lance whines, smacking his hand into Keith’s face.

                Lance continues to paw at him, narrowly avoiding poking Keith directly in the eye, while from the other side of the long table filled with computers, Hunk peers at them curiously.

                “Why do you just go with it?” Hunk asks.

                Keith shrugs.

                “You get used to it.”

                He steals another glance at Lance’s screen, at the orange banner running across the top of it.

                “Hey, Lance, you might wanna read that.”

                Curiously, Lance pauses in his exploration of Keith’s face and sits upright again, eyebrows knitting as he clicks on the link Keith is talking about.

                “SHUTTING DOWN?!” he shouts, momentarily forgetting he’s in the freaking _library._ Keith ducks his head and pretends to busy himself. Hunk, too, hunches over his own screen, while Shay, sitting next to Hunk, smothers laughter.

                Lance hurriedly switches the tab as the librarian walks by, not-so-subtly checking in to make sure he’s actually doing work. Lance narrows his eyes and pretends to read about how gamers make good surgeons, and changes the tab back to Club Penguin once the librarian’s cleared the area.

                “Did you not know?” Shay says.

                “No!” Lance replies. “This is an outrage! First they take away the real thing, and now its saving grace is going, too? Unacceptable.”

                “March fourth, too,” Keith remarks. “Two months before our anniversary. It’s a sign, Lance.”

                Lance whips his head toward Keith. “Sign of _what?!_ ”

                “We won’t be boyfriends anymore,” Keith says casually. He smiles primly at his computer, and doesn’t process any of what’s on the screen in front of him.

                Lance scoffs.

                “The only way we won’t be _boyfriends_ anymore is if one of us is proposing, Knife Boy.”

                Shay snorts. “Way to blow your plot, Keith.”

                “Ex _cuse_ me,” Lance says, “I thought we agreed _I_ got the proposal.”

                Keith shakes his head. “No, we established that _you_ have the _prom_ posal. The marriage proposal is still fair game.”

                Hunk mutters something under his breath that only Shay picks up on and giggles at.

                “Whatever that remark was, hush your mouth,” Lance says.

                “Just admiring your commitment,” Hunk says far too nonchalantly for his statement to be factual.

                Lance narrows his eyes and shifts in his chair, and then dramatically throws his leg into the air, propping it on Keith’s shoulder at the ankle. Keith suppresses a yelp and dodges a foot to the head.

                “Damn _right_ you better admire our commitment. We’re in this thing for _life._ ”

                “Life won’t be that long if I get a brain injury from being kicked in the head,” Keith mutters.

                Lance responds by stroking the side of Keith’s face with the bottom of his sneaker. Shay laughs harder while Hunk grimaces, and Keith shoves Lance’s leg so hard that Lance nearly falls out of his chair.

                “Get that dirty shoe out of my face, you absolute heathen,” Keith says, voice remaining even the whole way through his command.

                “Fine,” Lance says, righting himself. “Now, create an account and play Club Penguin with me.”

                “Wh—dude, we have a project to do,” Keith responds, and reaches for Lance’s mouse to try and close the Club Penguin tab himself.

                “Yeah, and we’ve got like, three weeks to do it,” Lance argues, pulling the mouse out of Keith’s reach. “Now, create an account. I know you want to.”

                For a heartbeat, Lance and Keith stare at each other, Lance raising one eyebrow. Another heartbeat, and then Keith sighs in defeat, pulls up a new tab, and types in _club penguin rewritten_.

                Lance smirks triumphantly, while Hunk sighs.

                “Keith, you absolute weakling.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah so cp rewritten is shutting down on march 4th, my childhood is dying all over again


	4. it's okay to fall apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a rough day. Keith chooses play rehearsal to seek comfort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> takes place during [chapter 55](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12199533/chapters/29168745) of squad up
> 
> i initially began writing this scene in november but then couldn't find the file because i couldn't remember where i saved it, so i rewrote it today. and then proceeded to find the unfinished file. whoops.

                It’s quiet backstage. The lights are off, and Lance sits on a table shoved to the furthest corner of the right wing. His eyes lazily skim his script book as he leans back, hardly following the scene happening downstage. He’s not on for a while—more than twenty pages, at this point. Part of him itches to take a nap, but he knows falling asleep means he won’t be getting up until someone shouts his name to tell him that he, inevitably, missed his cue.

                A shadow falls over what little light filters back here from the main stage, and Lance looks up, features softening as he takes in Keith. Keith’s shoulders are hunched, and he somehow looks small, dwarfed by the oversized sweatshirt he wears. His head hangs low, and Lance can hardly see his eyes through the hair falling in his face.

                “Hey,” Lance says softly, setting down his script.

                Keith doesn’t respond. He nudges Lance’s legs apart and squeezes himself between them, and his head falls onto Lance’s shoulder. He smushes his face into the side of Lance’s neck, and Lance wraps his arms around him. He takes to rubbing circles in Keith’s back, and presses his face against Keith’s hair.

                “You’re okay,” Lance murmurs. “I’m right here. Everything’s okay.”

                Keith drags in a shuddering breath, and then mutters, “I’m sorry.”

                “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for,” Lance says gently. He keeps an eye out for any sign of the other drama club or crew kids—he knows Keith hates this, hates feeling weak, and _especially_ hates losing his cool in front of other people.

                Keith makes a noise, between a whimper and a grunt, a noise of distress and understanding at once. His muscles tense. For a moment, he remains still, and then slowly peels away from Lance. Lance trails his hands away from Keith’s back, down his arms, until he takes Keith’s. He laces their fingers together and squeezes.

                “You don’t need to leave yet,” Lance says. “I’m not on for a while. Come on.”

                He scoots over on the table, and pulls Keith up next to him. Keith’s apprehensive, at first. He glances toward the main stage, but Lance unlaces one of their hands to press his palm against Keith’s cheek. Keith leans into Lance’s touch and shuts his eyes.

                “You’re warm,” Keith mumbles, and lifts his hand and cups Lance’s.

                Eventually it ends up that Keith leans on Lance, head on his shoulder, while Lance has an arm around him. Relief washes over Lance every time the scene on stage gets rerun, and new parts are added or changed—the longer they rehearse, the longer he can stay right here.

                “I love you.”

                Keith whispers it in a wobbling voice, and when Lance gets a good look at his face, he can barely make out the tears, quietly tracking their ways down his cheeks.

                “Hey, hey, hey,” Lance murmurs. “I love you, too. It’s alright.”

                Lance wipes away the tears with the pad of his thumb. Keith sniffles and narrows his eyes, mouth screwing up into a scowl.

                “Don’t be hard on yourself,” Lance says.

                “I don’t want this,” Keith replies hoarsely. “I want to be fine. I can’t...I can’t keep falling apart—”

                “Fall apart as often as you need to,” Lance interrupts. “I’ve got you.”

                Whatever argument Keith prepared crumbles. He knows there’s no use in trying to fight Lance, not on this subject. So, resigned, he utters a small “thank you,” curls up, and snuggles closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> voltron season 5 drops in 36 minutes. y'all know i barely sleep as it is but literally tonight I Am Not Sleeping


	5. garrison decisions come out when?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance gets an email, ft. more library shenanigans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mondays in the library during health are fucking great, just for the record
> 
> also i've made more progress on my project than my typically-productive friends i love having a topic and powerpoint-making

                “Keith—Keith, babe—”

                Yet another Monday in the library that they should be working on their Health project, and yet another Monday in the library that Lance is doing exactly the opposite of that.

                Keith turns to the side while Lance swats at his arm.

                “What?”

                “Garrison decisions come out in two weeks, look.”

                Lance points at his screen, at the email from Arus University. Keith scans it quickly to confirm that _yes,_ admissions decisions for those who applied for regular decision will be out on March 19th. He glances at Lance, whose eyes are wide as he reads over the email again and again.

                “Nervous?” Keith asks.

                Lance breathes out an anxious laugh. “Nah, nah, just my entire future on the line. I’m not nervous at _all._ ”

                Lance’s mask breaks, just for a second, as he swallows and bites his lip. Others would never catch it, but Keith does, fine-tuned to how Lance operates. Keith nudges Lance’s hand with his own, and intertwines their fingers, and squeezes gently.

                “You’re gonna get in,” Keith says. “There’s no doubt in my mind.”

                “You’re biased,” Lance replies, but he smiles tentatively anyway, and squeezes Keith back.

                Lance closes the email with his free hand, and instead of attempting to do his project, as he should be, he scoots his chair closer to Keith’s and leans his head on Keith’s shoulder.

                “Lance—”

                “Shh. Nap time.”

                “Okay, _no,_ ” Hunk jumps in from the other side of the computer row. “Lance, do your project. You two were being cute, and I wasn’t gonna interrupt, but this is where I draw the line.”

                “Silence, Hunketh,” Lance says, waving his hand vaguely in Hunk’s direction.

                Hunk shoots a pleading look in Keith’s direction, but Keith shakes his head and puts an arm around Lance and pats his head.

                “Sorry, Hunk,” he says, “I’m with him.”

                “That’s called _enabling._ Don’t you remember that assembly we had in freshman year?” Shay interjects.

                “Hush, let him enable me,” Lance says.

                Hunk meets gazes with Keith over the computers. “Seriously. How do you deal?”

                Keith shrugs the one shoulder that Lance hasn’t laid claim to.

                “I dunno.”

                “He doesn’t _deal,_ he _loves_ this and just won’t admit it,” Lance says. “Also, babe, this feels really nice, keep doing it.”

                “Wha—wow, I didn’t even realize.”

                Keith watches his fingers run through Lance’s hair, while Lance smiles and shuts his eyes.

                “Tell him to do his project,” Hunk says. “We’ve got two weeks to do it.”

                “Which is exactly why I won’t. Plenty of time,” Lance replies without opening his eyes.

                Hunk groans, and Shay reaches out and pats his arm.

                “Sorry, honey.”

                “Why do I even try with them?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> raise your hand if you feel personally victimized this was not a stars go down update (but also: keep an eye out >;) )


	6. kitty wants a corner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and Lance and the drama club, in the middle of a game of musical chairs on steroids.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so if you've never heard of "kitty wants a corner", it's a theatre game/warmup that's kinda like musical chairs crossed with tag. everyone sits in a giant circle, and one person is "kitty." kitty goes around and asks everyone "kitty wants a corner?" and sees if someone will give up their seat. the typical response is "go ask my neighbor" but lbr sometimes it turns to straight-up roasting kitty until their butt is leaving in flames. while kitty asks around, other kids are swapping chairs, and kitty can try and steal someone's chair. if you're the one left standing, you're kitty. the whole point of the game is that no one talks, unless you're kitty and the person kitty is asking. 
> 
> we played it at rehearsal yesterday (well, i sat out and did calc homework, but i played it during play rehearsals) and thus a snippet was born
> 
> ANYWAY THAT WAS LONG HERE'S THE SNIPPET

                _Ready?_

                A nod.

                Lance bites his lip and keeps an eye on the girl halfway across the circle.

                “Kitty wants a corner?”

                Another nod.

_Go._

                Lance bolts up from his chair at the same time Keith does and tears across the stage, and the poor junior in search of a seat notices too late. Lance throws himself into the black band chair, skidding half a foot back as he crosses his arms and smirks, while across the stage, Keith settles calmly into Lance’s former spot.

                The junior wants to scowl, but smiles and turns back around, and continues in her efforts to snag someone else’s seat.

                Around the circle, other kids continue swapping chairs. Some pull off similar stunts to Lance and Keith, while others simply change with the person next to them. Lance gets a bright idea, then, when he notices Hunk and Plaxum prepping for a cross-stage swap.

                “Kitty wants a corner?”

                Hunk gets up. Plaxum gets up.

                The junior notices and _rockets,_ and so does Lance.

                Hunk collapses into a chair.

                The junior snags a chair.

                “Plax, I _swear—!_ ”

                “Move your feet, lose your seat, McClain!”

                Plax, just slightly more athletic than Lance, flings herself triumphantly into the seat and crosses her arms, grinning cheekily, a mimicry of Lance’s favorite pose when he’s stolen a spot from someone else.

                “Ah, shit,” Lance says.

                “Too slow,” Plax replies.

                Lance sighs melodramatically and begins moving around the circle, asking member after member of the drama club, “Kitty wants a corner?”

                Twice, he makes dashes for open seats.

                Twice, he loses out.

                Three students after his second dash, he ends up in front of Keith.

                “Aw, does Kitty want a corner?” Keith teases.

                _Don’t do this to me,_ Lance thinks, as the butterflies in his stomach go wild.

                He pushes back; he bats his eyes and makes a point of getting in Keith’s face, and then drops his voice. “Kitty wants _your_ corner.”

                Keith flushes.

                “Well,” he says, and his voice absolutely cracks, “too bad.”

                Lance leans a little closer, until his mouth is less than an inch from Keith’s.

                “Hey, we have a game going here!” Plax shouts. “Stop making this dirty, dammit!”

                A freshman stands up to move chairs with a junior, and another freshman gets up to interrupt the exchange.

                “You sure about that?” Lance asks, and reaches a hand behind himself to flip off Plax.

                Two sophomores swap chairs.

                “I actually hate you,” Keith says quietly, but shuts his eyes and leans forward—

                And Lance pulls away and moves on.

                Laughter erupts around the circle as Keith falls forward, and catches himself before someone can get the bright idea to push him all the way to the ground and steal his seat.

                “You ass!” Keith calls after Lance.

                Lance pauses long enough to wink.

                “I hate both of you, just for the record,” Hunk interjects.

                “Hunk, dear heart, you wound me,” Lance says.

                Hunk rolls his eyes.

                Lance continues his journey around the circle, pleading for someone to give up their chairs, when he turns his head slightly, and spots Keith getting up to swap chairs with someone dangerously close to him.

                Lance moves.

                “No!” Keith shouts, when he realizes what’s going on.

                He swipes at the back of Lance’s shirt in an effort to deter him, but Lance won’t give in. He lands in the seat at the same time Keith tries to, but Keith ends up in his lap.

                “Not this again,” one of the sophomores grumbles.

                Keith turns beet red while Lance leans back.

                “Hey cutie,” Lance says, raising his eyebrows. “You come here often?”

                Before Keith can open his mouth, or realize that he needs to get up, the assistant director shouts for _everyone_ to get up, a rare, few-times-a-game call that translates into _mass chaos._

                Lance kills the moment and shoves Keith from his lap. Keith stumbles and then scrambles for a chair, while Lance beats out two freshman for one across the circle.

                Students shout and push, throw elbows and stick out ankles, and one chair gets landed in with so much force that it nearly gets pushed off of the stage. By the end of it, a sophomore stands alone in the center. They swear under their breath and then smile anyway, and begin asking, “Kitty wants a corner?”

                Keith looks around and finds Lance, and scowls. Lance winks again and finger-guns.

                _Love you,_ Lance mouths.

                He’s breathing hard and smiling, eyes bright, and Keith can’t help but smile, too.

                _You too,_ Keith mouths back.

                His eyes cut to the sophomore moving around the circle, and then back to Lance.

                _Ready?_

                Lance looks at the sophomore, grin widening, and then looks back at Keith and nods.

                _Go._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really love drama club okay, you can expect that the more in depth with musical season we go, the more musical snippets pop up I LOVE THE DRAMA CLUB


	7. it's a cold world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance was close to passing out, but he did not, in fact, do so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> set during the end of [chapter 50](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12199533/chapters/29004570) of squad up, in which lance is sick and keith is not. yet.

                Keith shakes his head as he shoves his phone back into his pocket and steps out of his car, parked in the middle of the empty lot. He clenches his fists and shoves them, too, into his pockets, to steal what little warmth he can as chilly November air bites at him.

                The few streetlamps dotting the parking lot light his way to the school. When he gets there, the door to the auditorium is already open, a few students Keith recognizes as sophomores leaving rehearsal. He waits for them to leave and then catches the open door and slips into the school. As expected, he finds Lance sitting in the first row of seats, closest to the stage. He’s surrounded by Hunk and Shay, both tending to him.

                Hunk says something to him, and Lance turns, smile spreading across his face as he spots Keith. He stands and immediately stumbles, and Keith sighs and jogs the rest of the way to him.

                “Nope,” Keith says when Lance tries to put on his backpack. “Give that to me.”

                Lance doesn’t argue. Keith slings Lance’s backpack on over his shoulders. Lance prepares to walk by Keith’s side, out to the car, but Keith has another idea in mind. He holds back a shudder and scoops Lance up, bridal-style, and grimaces. Lance is riddled with disease, and Keith can practically feel the germs getting all over his clothes and skin.

                Oh well.

                “Aw, this is romantic,” Lance mutters happily, arms around Keith’s neck. He buries his face in the shoulder of Keith’s sweatshirt, while Hunk and Shay look on with scrunched noses.

                “Good luck, buddy,” Hunk says to Keith, and Lance replies with a _thanks, buddy_ that has Shay snickering.

                “Thanks,” Keith says.

                He starts out of the auditorium, Lance humming contentedly, sniffling every once in a while. His eyes are closed; even sick, Keith still finds it cute.

                Keith backs into the auditorium door and pushes it open. Lance cuddles closer to Keith the moment the air hits him, humming ceasing in favor of groaning.

                “I’m _coooold_.”

                “We’re gonna be at the car in less than a minute,” Keith replies. “Don’t be a baby.”

                Lance groans louder, but for all of his complaining, he’s still smiling, perfectly happy to be in Keith’s arms and be doted upon. When they get to Keith’s car, he doesn’t let go, even when Keith tries to put him down; he still holds tight to Keith’s neck when his feet hit the ground.

                “Let me have this,” Lance insists.

                _I’m going to be so sick,_ Keith thinks.

                And then: _It was gonna happen eventually._

                He slides arms around Lance’s back and holds him close, and doesn’t let go until Lance decides he’s had enough of standing around in the cold. When he lets go, he still keeps a steadying arm around Lance’s waist and opens Lance’s door for him. Lance practically collapses into the passenger seat, and lets out a long sigh.

                “You need to stay home tomorrow,” Keith says, and shuts the door.

                “No I don’t,” Lance argues as soon as Keith walks around the car and opens the driver’s-side door. “If I rest tonight, I’ll be fine tomorrow.”

                “Sure you will,” Keith replies, and puts his keys in the ignition.

                Lance rolls his eyes. “ _Sure you will,_ ” he mimics. “Mark my words, Kogane, I’ll be all back to normal by tomorrow.”

                Keith starts out of the parking lot while Lance leans back, satisfied that Keith hasn’t been able to muster up a response. He reaches a hand out to crank up the radio, and proceeds to belt out _Believer_ , a rendition complete with sniffles and coughs and, well, pain.

                “You’re delirious,” Keith mutters.

                “ _MY LIFE, MY LOVE, MY DRIVE, IT CAME FROM—_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i actually had to google what songs were on the radio in the middle of november for this
> 
> l8r h8rs


	8. 3 AM observations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith's up late doing homework. Lance is sleeping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shhh let them be cute (set just prior to the start of [chapter 109](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12199533/chapters/32044905) of squad up)

            Keith drags a hand through his hair and pushes back from his desk, chair wheeling for a foot or two before Keith stops it. Blearily, he flicks his eyes to the clock on the nightstand next to his bed, and a red _2:34 AM_ blinks at him. If he goes to bed right now and falls asleep as soon as he hits the pillow, he can get a solid three hours and twenty-six minutes of rest.

            It’ll never happen.

            “Three o’clock,” Keith mutters, a hope more than it is a promise. “Three o’clock, then you can sleep.”

            Whatever homework isn’t done by three will have to be done during his classes, in whatever free moments he can get.

            Keith is about to roll his chair back into his desk when he pauses, and turns toward the nightstand again, and then a little to the left. A smile ghosts his lips as he takes in the sight of Lance, sprawled out on his bed. He’s a hot mess of limbs and blankets—one bare foot dangles over the side of the bed, an arm is tucked beneath the pillow, the other is flung over the side of the bed, and his mouth is open as he snores.

            Lance has one of Keith’s old NASA t-shirts on, gray and fuzzy from too many washes, and Keith’s entire frame softens at the sight of him. His hair sticks up at odd angles as it rubs against Keith’s pillow, as Lance shifts in his sleep. He ends up kicking out with his other leg, effectively flinging off the blanket and revealing the boxers he insists on sleeping in, even though the temperatures outside are far too cold for that.

            Keith shakes his head and turns back to his desk, content with the knowledge that Lance will still be there in half an hour, no matter how far Keith gets with his work. He’ll be there and warm for Keith to snuggle up against, and it’ll be that much easier to fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "eileen this doesn't even take place in the school this doesn't count--" HUSH KEITH IS DOING HOMEWORK IT COUNTS


	9. learn those moves, baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance needs Keith's help during rehearsal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LOVE THEY
> 
> set during [chapter 122 of squad up](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12199533/chapters/33206709)

            “Hey! Mullet!”

            Keith turns. He’s been in the back of the auditorium, gathered at the light and sound booth with a handful of other crew members, listening in on their conversation. He looks up in time to see Lance, leaping off of the stage and tearing up one of the aisles, barreling straight for him. Keith breaks away from the little group in time for Lance to come careening into him.

            They both stumble. Keith catches the both of them on the back of a chair, while Lance squishes his cheek into Keith’s.

            “Don’t you have a show to be staging?” Keith asks, smiling lightly.

            “I do,” Lance says, “but I wanted to tell you something. …Ask you something? Both? Eh, doesn’t matter, anyway—”

            Lance loosens his grip on Keith, readjusting until they’re both standing upright, side-by-side, Lance’s arm snug around Keith’s waist. He nods toward the stage, where Plaxum is reworking a scene with their director.

            “Next thing we’re staging is a dance scene. Sort of. Not total dance, but, like, we’re _trying_ to dance,” Lance says. “Ballroom type. I need you to watch it and try and learn Plax’s moves so you can rehearse it with me.” He drops his voice and leans in closer, so close that his lips brush Keith’s ear. “ _And_ so I can sweep you off your feet.”

            He punctuates his remark with a light peck to the edge of Keith’s ear. Keith snorts and shoves him, but Lance just drags him back in closer, into a hug that Keith immediately relaxes into, smiling and settling his chin on Lance’s shoulder.

            “Alrighty then,” Keith says quietly. “I’ll learn it.”

            “Aw, thanks babe,” Lance says. “Also, one more thing.”

            “Mmm?”

            “Go koala mode for me.”

            Keith’s smile splits into a wide grin. “Ready?”

            “Go for it.”

            Keith tightens his arms around Lance’s neck and jumps. He wraps his legs around Lance’s waist while Lance catches him, hands bracing his thighs. He stumbles again, backwards, into a chair, and uses it to orient himself, while Keith settles contentedly. Then Lance starts down the aisle to show off his boyfriend.

            “Clingy,” Hunk mutters as they pass him, not bothering to look up from the Calculus packet he’s working on.

            “Damn right,” Keith replies.

            Lance whips around to face Hunk, sending Keith into a fit of giggles he can’t smother.

            “I _love_ my clingy boyfriend, thank you,” he says.

            “Seconded,” Keith mutters, raising a finger so that Hunk can see it.

            Hunk sighs. “Unbelievable.”

            “Tell me about it,” Plax calls from the stage, prompting Lance to turn. “Put him down and get up here, McClain, we’ve got work to do.”

            Lance groans melodramatically. “Do I _have to?_ I mean, look at him.”

            Lance turns around again so Keith can face the stage. He grins sheepishly and waves, and Plax rolls her eyes—even though Keith can tell she’s holding back a smile of her own.

            “Yes. We need to stage this,” she says. “I’m sure Keith will understand.”

            “Unfortunately,” Keith mutters.

            Lance is the only one who hears it, and stifles a giggle of his own.

            “ _Fine_ ,” he says, and slowly lets go of Keith, easing him to the ground. Keith lets go of Lance in return.

            “Have fun,” Keith says, and gives Lance a gentle kiss. “Go kick ass up there.”

            Lance smiles down at him. “I will. Learn those moves for me?”

            Keith nods. “You got it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like i said before
> 
> I LOVE THEY


	10. poor unfortunate soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In November, it had been Keith. Five months later, it's Lance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~lololololololol guess who's been feeling weird again~~
> 
> set one day after [chapter 124](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12199533/chapters/33354438) of squad up.
> 
> **trigger warning for an anxiety attack and thoughts that could be interpreted as suicidal**

                Typically the stage lights warm Lance; even in the most difficult routines, drenched in sweat and breathless, he’s been on top of the world. The drama club has been his home for four years, but for the first time in a long, _long_ time, it doesn’t feel that way. Today the lights blind him, scorch him, leave him tired and desiring a nap. Or maybe a coma.

                Good thing he’s an actor; no one suspects anything is out of the ordinary as he takes down his blocking for this scene, the show finale. Nobody suspects anything wrong when, as Eric, he dances with Plaxum, as Ariel, across the stage, and pretends to look lovingly into her eyes as he wonders where Keith has situated himself this whole time.

                Last Lance saw him, he’d been lurking at the back of the auditorium near the light and sound board, talking to a massive group of crew underclassmen. Now, the group has disbanded, and kids meander about the house seats, and Keith is nowhere to be found.

                “Let’s run this one more time.”

                Lance holds back a sigh as he takes up his position centerstage. He goes through his lines with an enthusiasm he could only wish to possess today, while the ensemble fills in the stage behind him just in time for Eric and Ariel’s wedding. He walks upstage with Plax while the ensemble sings about their future together; he spins downstage and back upstage with her and wishes she were Keith, because this isn’t the affection or attention he needs right now.

                When the scene is over, when the ensemble’s hands finally fall back down to their sides as the last notes of the song drift out, the director rises from his chair and appraises the whole cast, nodding approvingly.

                “Good work. Take five, and then we’re running from top of act two,” he says.

                Lance itches to run. Some of the other cast members _do,_ bolting for phones left plugged into walls, charging, while others dash for the snacks in their backpack, seizing these precious few minutes to eat. Others, though, walk at a leisurely pace, or jump down from the stage, or drop where they are and sit or lie down.

                Lance takes casual strides into the right wing, trying not to make it obvious who he’s looking for. Every second that he doesn’t see the familiar mullet is another second his breath gets shorter, and his skin crawls.

                _Breathe. Come on. Keep it together, Lance. At least until you find Keith._

His search doesn’t last long.

                A hand shoots out from the other side of the curtain Lance walks alongside and wraps around his wrist, dragging him to the backmost section of the stage, behind the last traveler. There’s no one else back here, and no one in either wing pays them any mind as Keith sweeps Lance into his arms. He presses one warm palm against the back of Lance’s neck, his other arm around Lance’s waist.

                Lance unravels.

                “It’s alright,” Keith murmurs. “Everything’s gonna be alright.”

                Lance doesn’t ask how Keith knew; he must’ve been watching in the wings, must have seen right through his facades, because there are few people who can, and Keith is one of them. Instead, Lance swallows back sobs and shudders in Keith’s arms. When Keith slowly starts moving them off to the side, where a few chairs sit in an empty cluster, Lance moves with him, until Keith finally lands in a seat, and Lance sits on his lap.

                Keith never asks Lance to speak, but doesn’t speak in his place, either, leaving a window of opportunity that Lance closes. Keith already knows what’s going on with him: the multiple looming deadlines warring for attention, the problems with his family, the plain and simple fact that school has been draining him and his anxiety isn’t helping.

                “Places!” the director chooses then to call, and Lance almost lets a cry escape him.

                He doesn’t want to. All he wants to do is go home, but he can’t, because he’s made a commitment, and opening is in two weeks to the day, and if he doesn’t go out there now then he’ll hate himself for it later.

                “Do you need a few more minutes?” Keith whispers. “I can get someone to say you went to the bathroom.”

                “No,” Lance answers automatically, voice strained.

                He shifts and plants his feet on the floor and tries to stand, and Keith is behind him the whole time. When Lance moves to the gap between travelers, preparing for the _Positoovity_ number to end, Keith stands with him, chin propped on his shoulder, arms around his waist.

                In the middle of the number, Keith starts planting light kisses on Lance’s neck. Lance tilts his head, leaning it against Keith’s.

                “Everything’s gonna be okay,” Keith reassures him quietly.

                “Can we go somewhere after this?” Lance asks.

                His emotional spiral started yesterday, and after rehearsal, he and Keith ended up hiking, almost to park closing. He’d let Keith take the lead, and they walked through some of the more difficult trails. Keith directed from behind, always ready to catch him if he slipped.

                Today is shaping up to be the same.

                “Yeah,” Keith answers, detaching himself as the dance number ends, and Lance rolls his shoulders in preparation of his entrance. “Anywhere in particular?”

                Lance shakes his head and starts forward, uttering a small “surprise me” before he steps into the spotlight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: aggressively wants to update stars go down  
> also me: spends more time writing the SU universe than stars go down
> 
> anyhoo see ya whenever the next one goes up


	11. the fine art of masks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance isn't ready to take off his stage makeup for the last time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm in tears hi
> 
> set before the currently-not-yet-written/posted-as-of-posting-this 130th chapter of [squad up](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12199533/chapters/27702090)

                Lance stands in front of the mirror in Hunk’s bathroom, the same bathroom he’s known since he was a child, the one just around the corner off of the living room and right before the kitchen, the one with the pale peach walls and cold, tiny squares of emperador tile. The hand towels hang on the wall behind him, cream-colored and embroidered with flowers for spring, but all Lance can think about are the bouquets he received a little over an hour before, after he took his final bows.

                His hand shakes, his breathing comes out labored and shallow. He blinks as his eyes moisten, and he stares at himself in his stage makeup. The last face he’s ever going to wear on the stage of his school auditorium, the final face he’s ever going to wear as a drama club member, his last mask.

                A mask he’s about to take off.

                He clutches a makeup wipe in his hand as he studies himself, and tries to memorize this, imprint the image in his brain, sear it there forever, even though he’s already immortalized this look in far too many photos to count. The foundation, the highlight and contour and eyeshadow, the glitter he finally just said _fuck it_ to and applied, even though Prince Eric isn’t supposed to wear glitter.

                _It’s just makeup. You can recreate this. You have the photos._

                No matter how much he tries to reason with himself, it will never work. They’ll never be the same brush strokes, the same dabs. He won’t be doing it in the choir room of his school, with a mirror propped up on top of a piano, with his makeup bags on the covered keys, with a band chair underneath him, with the clock ticking away the minutes until the pre-show rituals, with musical theatre and Disney soundtracks blasting from someone’s speakers.

                This is everything he’s about to leave behind.

                It’s not just about the flowers that will wilt by the end of the week, or the Kisses for the Cast cards wishing him well, or the costume he’ll never wear again, or even the makeup he’s hesitating to scrub off. It’s the experience that touched every one of those things, the experience he’ll never have again—not exactly.

                Lance brings his hand up to his face with a wince, presses down hard, and drags it down, makeup coming away in shades of brown-orange and black and sparkles. His lower lip trembles at the sight, the tears finally welling and pushing through. It’s not a completely _sad_ cry, but his chest aches all the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _i'm gonna miss my hell club_
> 
> taking off my makeup was...something else


	12. king of his heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The announcements of Prom King and Prom Queen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i planned on writing a whole prom oneshot but i've literally just had like
> 
> different snapshots of little moments from my prom and post-prom i wanted to write, and i have like zero energy to connect them into one long oneshot now that it's been two months since prom
> 
> ALSO WHAT did u think i forgot about this fic? lmao every time i reread squad up i find more moments i need to write snippets for, so those on top of all the prom snippets...this fic's still goin for a while :P
> 
> ANYWAY in case u didn't put it together this is from [chapter 126](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12199533/chapters/33617214) of squad up

            “Alright everyone!”

            The DJ cuts into the last notes of the song, as it fades out, and the kids all around the prom venue come to a standstill, some shuffling forward to pay better attention. Lance settles his chin on Keith’s shoulder, arms snug around his waist as they cease dancing and turn toward the DJ booth.

            “It’s that time of night, the time a _lot_ of you have been waiting for. It’s time…”

            Ah, the dramatic pauses. Lance smiles at them, feels Keith’s smile in the way his cheek moves.

            “…to announce your _Prom King and Queeeeeeeeeeeeen_!”

            Cheers erupt from the students, especially those closest to the DJ booth. Keith claps on both his behalf and Lance’s, because Lance is much more content leaving his arms where they are, but he whoops loudly to make up for it. The DJ beams back out at the students, and holds up two envelopes, a gesture that practically silences the crowd.

            “You all voted, and the results. Are. _In._ ”

            A murmur ripples through the student body. Lance himself squeezes his arms just a little bit tighter around Keith; it was a shock, this morning, discovering that Keith had secretly campaigned among the students to even get him on the ballot in the first place, and despite not putting forth any effort into running a prom king campaign…part of him can’t help but want it anyway, and every second that the DJ drags the announcement out is another second too long.

            “Your 2018 Prom King…is…”

The DJ plays an audio track of a drum rolling, eliciting a few giggles from students here and there, and Keith seizes his moment to turn his head to the side, kiss Lance’s cheek, and whisper, “Good luck.”

 _“_ … _Lance McClaaaaaaaaaaain_!”

            _Holy shit. Holy shit, that_ _’s ME—_

            Shock stuns Lance momentarily, and it takes Keith squirming out of his arms and trying to push him forward to snap out of it. Keith’s laughing, and pulls Lance in again for a brief kiss, and then gives him a light shove toward the front of the dance floor.

            Other students call out congratulations and slap Lance on the back, clapping and shouting his name, cheering for _him_ as he walks up front, where one of the boys from student government waits with a crown in hand. Lance bows, and the boy places the crown on his head with another _congratulations._

            He waits at the front, still smothering incredulous giggles as the DJ grins down at him, and then continues on: “And your 2018 Prom Queen… _Ezor Thieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeen_!”

            Lance laughs even harder, claps until his hands hurt as Ezor makes her way through the crowd, bubbly as always. Acxa’s the student government member in charge of handling the Prom Queen’s tiara, and a heart-melting look passes between the two of them as Ezor curtsies before her girlfriend, and Acxa settles the crown on her head. The sight of it makes Lance seek out Keith, who’s pushed his way to the front of the crowd and snaps photo after photo, both on his phone and on the Polaroid camera he’s brought with him.

            “Class of 2018, let’s give it up for your Prom King and Queen!” the DJ says, and makes a lifting gesture with his hands, while the crowd roars for Lance and Ezor.

            Lance considers himself lucky, not because he’s got a crown on his head, but because the smile Keith shoots his way as he lowers his camera brings tears to his eyes. It’s wide, bright and infectious. Somewhere along the way, as they hold each others’ gazes, Ed Sheeran’s _Perfect_ starts up, and the DJ makes one last announcement before he lets the song play:

            “And now, if the king and queen would lead us in our last slow dance of the night…”

            Lance and Keith’s staring is interrupted by Ezor tapping Lance on the shoulder, and where Lance expects her to be waiting for him to dance with her, she’s instead gesturing toward Acxa.

            “You don’t mind if we do this a bit differently, do you?”

            Lance glances again at Keith, smile widening. “I think I like where this is going.”

            Ezor smirks. “Thought so.”

            They both break from the DJ booth, and instead of clasping hands and dancing with each other, Ezor sweeps Acxa into her arms, while Lance extends a hand to Keith.

            “May I have this dance?” he asks, like they haven’t slow-danced to several other songs throughout the night.

            Keith grins, readjusts his Polaroid on its strap, and steps forward, winding arms around Lance’s neck, while Lance brings his arms to the small of Keith’s back.

            If the DJ is confused by this turn of events, he keeps quiet, and turns the music back up, now that he’s done making announcements. Around the floor, other students pair off, swaying back and forth, gazing longingly into each others’ eyes.

            “Now you _really_ are the king of my heart,” Keith murmurs. “Congrats, Starboy.”

            Lance laughs again, and leans in. Keith follows, pressing his lips softly against Lance’s. The kiss is short, sweet, and when they pull back, they press their foreheads together, whispering along to the song.

 _Baby, I_ _’m dancing in the dark_  
_With you between my arms_  
 _Barefoot on the grass_  
 _Listening to our favorite song_  
 _I have faith in what I see_  
 _Now I know I have met an angel in person_  
 _And he looks perfect_  
 _I don’t deserve this_  
 _You look perfect tonight._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OTHER PROM SNIPPETS THAT'LL COME DOWN THE PIPELINE SOMETIME THIS SUMMER  
> -MULTIPLE moments from the sports center at post-prom  
> -more klance dancing  
> -spies? more likely than u think  
> -pre-prom preparations
> 
> OTHER SNIPPETS COMING DOWN THE PIPELINE PROBABLY  
> -probably more rehearsals/moments from the musical  
> -moments from way at the beginning at the football games, depending on how nostalgic i get for autumn, as i tend to do during july/august for no reason  
> -??????? i dunno i'll figure it out, i had more that i can't remember
> 
> ANYWAY SEE Y'ALL LATER


	13. no one's actually playing golf on the mini golf course

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance and Keith share an intimate moment at the highest point of the mini golf course at post-prom...at one in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> brain: eileen it's 2 AM gO TO BED  
> me, sobbing: but klance  
> brain: YOU LITERALLY UPDATED DAALGOITF LIKE, THREE HOURS AGO  
> me, sobbing harder, fingers flying across the keyboard: fuck u  
> brain: EILEEN
> 
> i've been crying over klance for like 3 hours how's it going with u guys

            The waterfall still being functional is a surprise, Lance won’t lie.

            It’s about one in the morning when Lance and Keith get to the hole with the waterfall, Hunk and Shay having long since abandoned them for the arcade. Lance doesn’t blame them—the golf course is long, and, as students have free reign of the place, they’re free to come and go, and give up as they please.

            Lance and Keith agreed to at least make it to the top of the waterfall before giving in, and that’s where they stand now, surrounded by trees bursting with cherry blossoms, cool mist from the waterfall rising up. From here, they can see most of the Sports Center where the post-prom party is being held. The batting cages; the driving range; the building housing the arcade, FunBowl, and laser tag; the ice rink just a short walk away, behind everything else.

            It’s a beautiful sight to see, strange and surreal under white stadium-style light in the wee hours, the rest of the area quiet under the dark cover of night, the only other noises the distant shouts of students and the breeze whispering through the area.

            Lance’s eyes drift over to Keith.

            Like Lance, he’s wearing his Arus University sweatshirt, shivering underneath it as the wind ruffles his hair. He, too, is gazing out at the Sports Center, and Lance’s chest seizes.

            He’s absolutely mesmerizing.

            He’s a sight to behold no matter what, always. But his hair perfectly frames his face when he turns toward Lance, and he never bothered removing his prom makeup. His glance is a shot to the heart, and Lance has to remind himself to breathe. Has to remind himself that this is about fifty percent of the reason he wanted to make it up here in the first place as he steps forward, drops his mini golf club on the putting green.

            Keith, too, drops his club, and opens his arms as Lance crashes into him, captures his mouth in a kiss, holds onto him for dear life.

            Two years. For two years, his planet has been tangled in Keith’s gravity, constantly orbiting, constantly basking in his glow. For two years, his rocket has been lost in the glittering constellations in Keith’s midnight eyes, with no desire to find his way out. For two years, Keith has been _his._ Two years, and many more to come, and Lance pours all of that into the kiss, one Keith returns with fervor. Up here, there’s no one to stop them, and they savor every second of it as Lance’s fingers tangle in Keith’s hair, as Keith’s hand slides underneath Lance’s sweatshirt to press against the warm skin of his back.

            “I love you,” Lance murmurs against Keith’s mouth. “I love you _so much_. I love you, I love you…”

            Keith breaks their kiss, presses his forehead against Lance’s, while Lance continues whispering, in English, in Spanish, with tears threatening to spill over his eyelids—and he thanks every higher being, in the back of his mind, that his makeup his waterproof and his setting spray is the strongest one he could find on the market.

            “How many times are you gonna cry today, you baby?” Keith jokes in a whisper, but his own voice sounds close to breaking, as he brings Lance in for another kiss, softer this time, slower.

            Keith is the one to speak when they part again, smiling, eyes glistening with tears of his own (tears Lance can’t bring himself to call him out on, because his voice is going to _shatter_ if he speaks again): “Happy anniversary, Starboy.”

            By now, it’s May 5th, technically no longer their anniversary, but Lance just nods, brings Keith in for a tighter hug. Presses his face into Keith’s hair and takes in the whole moment.

            “Happy anniversary, Starlight,” he breathes out, after some time, when he’s finally gathered himself enough to speak.

            It’s Lance who breaks them apart this time, blinking the tears out of his eyes as he stoops down and picks up his club again. He runs a hand through his hair out of habit, and Keith’s mouth quirks up at the sight of it, and he holds a hand up.

            “Hey, stay like that for a sec.”

            Lance doesn’t ask a question as Keith shrugs his drawstring bag off of his shoulders, and produces his Polaroid camera. He snaps a photo of Lance, surrounded by the cherry blossom trees, the mist from the waterfall around his ankles, bleeding into the background.

            “Alright, you’re good,” Keith says, as he stows his camera back in his bag, slings the bag back onto his shoulders, flaps the photo around while he picks up his own club. “Y’wanna go see what Hunk and Shay are up to?”

            “Sure,” Lance replies, and steps forward, and takes Keith’s club into his hand, freeing up Keith’s so he can twine their fingers.

            They cut through the rest of the empty mini golf course hand in warm hand, turn in their clubs and golf balls, and head for the arcade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next update should either be my julance ficlet compilation or the next oneshot in the abc series...or yknow maybe chapter 1 of the wiz au if i can,, focus on that for more than five minutes...but also it might be another update to a midsummer night's meme...okay i have no idea what's updating next the inspiration comes and goes as it pleases rIP RIP POTATO CHIP


	14. keith is a cat (or: he naps where he can)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith's tired when prom ends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao sorry this one is short but this is
> 
> all i wanted to see
> 
> bc after prom i too wanted to nap on one of my friends until we got back to the other's house (no one let me, rip)

            Keith’s dead on his feet by the time prom is over.

            His friend group lingers once most of the other seniors and dates have cleared out of the venue, remaining behind to chat with teachers, to steal fake rose petals and placecard holders from the piles of extras. Of course, it’s not _Keith_ doing these things, because he’s too tired to do anything, really, until he gets another shot of caffeine in his system. It’s not even Lance, nor Hunk, nor Shay. But it’s the other kids on their party bus, and they can’t leave without them.

            Keith’s grateful for Lance; he’s draped one of Keith’s arms around his shoulders, and is currently supporting about fifty percent of his weight.

            “Dude, are you gonna make it to post-prom?” Lance asks him quietly.

            Keith nods. Fights off a yawn. “Yeah, I just…mmm…need coffee.”

            Coffee, and maybe a tiny, _tiny_ power nap. Preferably in Lance’s arms, but he’ll take what he can get. Like right now, for instance. He shuts his eyes, and Lance doesn’t seem to mind this—just shifts to better support him.

            They wait at the door, and it’s another five minutes before the gang regroups to head out to the bus. Lance nudges Keith, and Keith suppresses a grumble as he opens his eyes and shifts his weight back on both legs. They lead the procession back out to the party bus, everyone squishing inside, prepping for the trip back to Lance’s house.

            Unlike on the ride to prom, no one makes a move to stand up and dance, and chatter is kept quiet, mostly between clusters of two or three friends. Keith and Lance, in the corner of the rounded seat at the back of the bus, squish in close, Keith practically in Lance’s lap, head on his shoulder. Lance has his arms wrapped around him, _and_ has his suit jacket draped over Keith like a blanket.

            “I’m napping here,” Keith mutters, because it’s a nearly half-hour ride from the venue back to the house.

            Lance kisses Keith’s forehead, removes his crown, and places it on top of Keith’s head. “Go for it. I’ve got you.”

            “Mmh…thanks, babe…you’re warm…”

            Keith buries his face in Lance’s neck with a content sigh, and it takes everything in Lance not to spontaneously combust right then and there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they're soft
> 
> more prom stuff is still coming but also last night i was like a faucet, like words were just cOMING OUT OF ME, MAN
> 
> and now it's like someone shut it off wrgebgrwgrewfev
> 
> see ya in the next one!!


	15. the one where they walked in separately

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and Lance, and some snuggling before Psych.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didn't plan on writing this but i was rereading some sections of SU, u know how it goes,,, it just kinda:  
> me: oh wrow  
> brain: write the snippet  
> me, opening a new document: i am powerless before your charms,
> 
> anyhoo this takes place at the beginning of [chapter 133 of SU](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12199533/chapters/34083828) and if u don't feel like going back to figure out what happened, keith had like, a rlly bad mental breakdown two days beforehand, and he and lance go to school separately bc keith has therapy in the afternoon
> 
> okay carry on, no trigger warnings here, just some soft boyfriends

            The door to Antok’s room is already open when Keith drags himself through the door, backpack slung over one shoulder. Typically, he’s not this early—he’s the first here, today—but he usually comes in with Lance, after stopping to grab breakfast. Today, he’s alone, and Antok notices. He lifts his head from his computer and his coffee mug, eyes widening fractionally.

            Keith catches it, and says nothing as he dumps his backpack on the floor and slides into his seat, and then collapses into the folds of his sweatshirt and crossed arms, propped on his desk, and shuts his eyes.

            Antok does not receive this very clear message that Keith isn’t interested in talking, because there’s nothing to talk about, really. He swears.

            “Everything alright, Keith?” Antok asks, swiveling around in his chair, and Keith doesn’t even lift his head. He merely raises a thumb in the general direction of his Psychology teacher, and in his mind’s eye, he can practically see Antok nodding skeptically, which is what Keith assumes he’s doing in the silent space before he says, “Well, okay then. Carry on.”

            So Keith _does_ carry on, and is on the verge of dozing off when the classroom door squeaks on its hinges. Keith peers up through the hair falling in his eyes, and smiles softly when Lance pokes his head into the door. Lance’s face lights up at the sight of his boyfriend, and he steps quietly into the room with a nod toward Antok.

            Antok doesn’t bat an eye at the tray of coffees Lance balances on his arm, very clearly against school policy…a policy the student body breaks every single day, and at the end of May, there’s really no point in calling anyone out on it anymore. Especially not seniors due to be gone in less than a month.

            “Hi, baby,” Lance murmurs, setting the tray down on one of the three desks pushed together at the front of the room. Keith’s taken the one closest to the wall, and Lance slides into the chair at the center desk, next to him. He opens his arms, and Keith shifts over and melts into him, while Lance kisses the top of his head.

            “Thanks for the coffee,” Keith mutters, his words muffled by Lance’s own sweatshirt, and the fact that Keith’s squished his face into the space where Lance’s neck meets his shoulders.

            “You know I’ve got you,” Lance responds quietly.

            They don’t speak after that. Lance leans on Keith almost as much as Keith leans on him. They languidly sip on their coffees every so often, but take more comfort in snuggling with each other before class starts. Students who drip into the room, one or a handful at a time, pay them no mind.

            Keith doesn’t think he’d care even if they _were_ paid mind—it’s just one more opportunity to show off Lance, to express his appreciation for Lance, while Lance inevitably tries to show off Keith just as much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i dunno what the next snippet will be or when so see ya whenever


End file.
